Not What I Am
by KHwhitelion
Summary: Following the deaths of Othello and Desdemona, Cassio visits Iago after he's been tortured-wanting to learn why he ruined Othello's life before he dies


It was dark. Very dark; the only source oflight coming from the small flickering glow of candles scattering the vast lifeless room. Well, almost lifeless, save for the man chained in the comer. At least, he _used _to be a man, before the word burned on his lips and stung his ears at the mere mention of it. Before he had been taken away. He scowled, gritting what was left of his teeth together, and struggling to raise his head. His dark eyes, perhaps the only source of life left in him, darted back and forth; searching for a window he knew wasn't there. But the same question kept pestering him, kept gnawing at his brain. _Time. _How much time had passed since he'd been down here? And more importantly, how much time did he have left? His head lowered from its previous position; the strain on his neck proving too much, and his jaw relaxed, hanging loosely to one side. It aggravated him really. How could someone with his high ranking and superior wit end up as nothing more than a suffering slave, trying to stand on his last leg? He didn't understand any of it. His life, his position, all that he accomplished .._.. everything .._.. gone. But though he couldn't grasp the concept, he knew who to blame. He knew who was responsible for this.

"Hey you," a voice called suddenly, which he recognized as the guard who stood watch over him, 'There's someone here to see you." A sharp rustling of metal followed shortly after, but he paid no heed. The thought of a visitor did not appeal to him, and if he had had any voice left in him, he would have protested against it. Even during his imprisonment, his liking for the human race and those who called themselves 'men,' had deteriorated entirely. Nevertheless, he was intrigued. Who, that he knew of, would come out of their way to visit a broken down soul such as himself?

"Cassio. Michael Cassio." "Beg your pardon?"

He stirred then, eyes widening with force.

"My name, sir. That's my name." He heard the painfully familiar voice continue, as a rustling of cold metal on metal followed, to which he could only assume were the keys worn by the guard. Perhaps if he weren't blinded in one eye, he could have confirmed this suspicion, however, before he got the chance, a number of sounds suddenly erupted. The sharp scraping of steel against stone, followed by a lighter, yet uneven tapping sound, which, he realized with disgust, was increasing with every step.

"Careful, son," the guard's gruff voice warned the man heading towards him, "that character in the comer-he's a crafty one, he is. I'd watch out." Again; the wretched scraping noise-a slam, and complete silence. The tapping had ceased as well, and, ever curious, forced his head upwards. A feeling of utter loathing came over him suddenly, as his eyes fell upon a young man, with light wavy hair and a small scruffy beard leaning heavily on a large walking stick, staring down at him.

_"Cassio," _he hissed. The word was hoarse and faint, for he hadn't spoken in a very long time. The other man continued to look at him, shaking his head, expression becoming one of pity and disgust.

"Iago, Iago." He said solemnly, folding his free arm, "Just look at you. Look what you've become."

The one called Iago scoffed-though it came across as a loud hacking noise, for his throat was sore and very dry. _"You," _he said rashly, a feeling of hatred starting to burn in his chest, "what are _you _doing here?"

Still wearing a serious look, the slightly younger man dropped his arm, eyes still fixated on Iago. "A memorial service for the moor Othello and his beloved Desdemona is being held later today," he said, shifting his position on his cane, "I thought 1 should inform you, seeing as to how ... " He stopped, eyes hardening as he glared at Iago.

Then, without warning, Cassio dropped to his knees, only inches away from the darker-haired man. "Why, Iago," he asked suddenly, voice nearly a whisper, "why did you do it?"

Iago, who at this point had lost interest in the conversation, instantly straightened his position inthe corner, though it hurt a great deal. "Do _what?" _He inquired, wincing as his muscles forced his body to stay upright.

Cassio's blue eyes threw a few glances around, just incase anyone was listening, before answering eagerly, "Destroy the lives of all those innocent people. Surly you must have had some motive."

Iago, in pain as he was, actually laughed, for the first time in what felt like ages.

He couldn't help himself. "Of all people, Cassio, I hadn't expected such a direct question from you. And on that topic nonetheless. Do you really expect I'd tell you my ambitions, even inthis state?" He made to shake his head, then decided against it, letting his neck relax as he leaned back against the stone wall behind him. As he did so, however, he saw from the corner of his good eye Cassio frowning at him.

"Don't play me for a fool, Iago," he warned, tone becoming harsh, "I know there's more to this story then you're letting on. I've tried talking to Lodovico and Gratiano, the men who brought you here, but they won't tell me a thing. Said I had to go straight to the source if I wanted information. So here I am." He pulled out his sword then, aiming its point dangerously at Iago's withered throat, "Now _talk." _

Despite the almost total darkness, Cassio's blade glimmered, catching candlelight on its sleek metallic surface. Iago could see, even with one eye, Cassio would have no problem inflicting a fatal wound with it, especially on one, such as himself, who could offer no defense against it.

"You realize I've a doomed future, regardless of your threats." He mused, chuckling to himself. "However," he paused, "as such, I may as well postpone my death as long as possible."

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"Quit struggling! There's no use-we won't let you go." A sharp, middle-aged voice growled, as the head of an angry soldier turned dangerously to the man he and the other-Gratiano-were trying to keep from escaping their grasp on him. The two men fought viciously to maintain their hold, as they headed down the deserted street. However, the captivated man paid no heed, and continued his attempts to yank his imprisoned arms free of their hold. The one who had spoken before, an older man with a rugged

appearance by the name of Lodovico, sighed, his free hand reaching for the sword he always wore at his side. "Iago, if you don't cut that out, 1 _will _draw my blade on you."

This caught the captured man, lago's, attention, and his head suddenly jerked in the soldier's direction. "Go ahead" he said with a twisted half-smile, "after all, you two are just leading me to my death anyway, right? What does it matter then if you stab me here? As far as you're both concerned, ending my life now would save a lot of ... " He stopped, dark eyes narrowing, "..._. unnecessary _trouble."

Gratiano scoffed. "Your little mind games aren't going to work on us, you fool.

Now pipe down, or there really _will _be unnecessary trouble."

Iago shot him a dirty look, muttering under his breath, "I highly doubt _that." _"What was that?" Lodovico barked, apparently having heard what his captive had said.

"Oh ... nothing, _sir. _Just ... how should I put this ..._. speculating your arrogance."_

"My _what?" _

His expression changed then, and his eyes went a little wild. "Who are you to say I won't deceive you the same way I did the moor?" he challenged, aggression building in his voice, "Will you see it coming as he failed to? Will you catch on, as he didn't? I think not, _Lodovico. _I think not." A crazed smile spread across his face then, and he laughed. "As a man of superior intellect, I'll _always _have the upper hand, and I'll always get what I want. That's just the way it's going to be. That fool Othello found that out the hard way, but ...I wonder, _gentlemen..._.will _you?" _

His previous laughter suddenly broke into an ear-piercing cackle, causing both Gratiano and Lodovico to jump. During that brief instant of startling, their grip on Iago loosened, and he, becoming aware of it, sprang from the two men and headed for his freedom. However, before he had the chance to go very far, Lodovico jumped to his feet, whipping out his sword and slashing lago's lower leg. The bewildered man cried out, reaching for his wounded appendage as he fell to his knees.

"You really _are _mad," Lodovico mused, walking over to Iago, "mad ... and irrational." He bent down, grabbing the now bleeding man and yanking him to his feet. Gratiano, having pulled himself together, followed his colleague's example .

"It's a shame, you know, Iago," he said, a surprising tone of remorse in his cold voice, "that a brain such as yours was put to waste. Ruining all those innocent

lives ... what a cruel way to live."

lago turned to answer Gratiano, and as he did so his body began shaking.

"You're wrong." He stated, voice very low, "the life I live isn't one of cruelty. True, I may have to sacrifice someone now and then, but if they were in the way of accomplishing your goals, you would do the same, correct? Of course you would. That's the nature of mankind, after all: survival of the fittest."

His last words were slurred as Iago lost control and broke into a state of maniacal laughter. The two men holding him exchanged looks of shock, then shook their heads as they led the howling man down the dark streets of the city.

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" ... and _that's _when I ended up _here." _Iago finished, laughing hysterically. "Well, my _dear _Cassio, did 1 answer any of your questions?"

Blue eyes wide with horror, Cassio just gaped at him- speechless. Iago, having gone into a fit of violent coughing, could not pursue the matter, so an eerie silence fell on the two; Iago fighting to regain his composure, and Cassio stunned into thought.

After some time had passed, Cassio rose to his feet. "You're insane," he stated, shaking his head sadly as he turned his back to Iago, "completely insane."

Iago, winded though he was from coughing, opened his mouth in attempts to contradict him, however, before he got the chance, a familiar creaking sound arose from the direction of the door.

"Iago," the guard's voice called, walking towards him in a short but very quick step, "It's time to go."

Hastening his paced as he spoke, the man in no time reached the far end of the room, where Iago was chained. Without a word, the guard hurriedly reached for his keys, fumbling at first when he removed them from his belt. Still not speaking, he bent down, in the position Cassio had previously assumed, and, hands moving remarkably quick, began unlocking the restraints that held Iago to the wall. If he had had the strength, Cassio noted, Iago would have probably made a run for the exit. However, neither his body nor his mind were in such a state to do so, and though Iago could recall precious facts with great enthusiasm, Cassio doubted very much his sharp intellect had remained with him during the whole of his stay here.

"On your feet." The guard commanded, forcing Iago to stand. He staggered, clearly having great difficulty maintaining balance, but said nothing. Finding this odd, but seeing the broken man as no threat, the guard took a step behind him, the heavy soles of his boots making sharp clapping noises against the floor. Cassio watched in silence, observing the situation. Once, he knew, removing Iago's chains would have meant trouble for the guard, as the brilliant man could have easily made an escape. Now however, those days were over.

Realizing suddenly they were approaching, he stood back, nodding as the two men passed in front of him-Iago's hands re-bound with a piece of knotted rope. No words were exchanged between them, no final last good-bys. But just as the guard reached the door at the room's other end, Iago turned his head back around, to look at Cassio. And that's when he saw his eyes. In each of Iago's dark pupils, something was there ... something sinister. Though Cassio knew he was being foolish, Iago's cold eyes seemed to be mocking him, as if they held a dark secret: A secret they were about to take to the grave. "I'll _always _have the upper hand, and I'll always get what I want." His eyes seemed to say, glistening despite the dark surroundings. A feeling of uneasiness suddenly washed over Cassio, as Iago was led out the door, "But, _will _you see it coming as he failed to? Will _you _catch on, as he didn't? I think not, _Cassia. _I think not."


End file.
